


We've got you

by FanGirl_Fandoms



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Greg Lestrade & Sherlock Holmes Friendship, Greg is Sweet, Hurt/Comfort, John is a Good Friend, Minor Character Death, Protective Greg, Protective John Watson, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 12:55:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17366255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanGirl_Fandoms/pseuds/FanGirl_Fandoms
Summary: Sherlock has more of a heart than anyone thinks. After the bombs, and the old lady that died, how is Sherlock doing?





	We've got you

“Sherlock? Are you in there?” Greg Lestrade asked outside of Sherlock’s bedroom door, which was firmly shut in his face. “Sherlock, Greg and I just want to help. Please open the door.” John begged from next to Lestrade.

‘He won’t be weak in front of John. He won’t allow himself to be weak in front of John. God, Sherlock, you stubborn arse. You’re going to destroy yourself if you bottle everything up.’ Greg told himself. “John, do you mind going to get some soup from the store, as well as some tea please? Sherlock is going to need some when I’m done with him.” Greg told John, calmly. “Yeah. Yeah sure Greg. I’ll be back in an hour or so.” John said, backing away from Sherlock’s bedroom door.

“Sherlock? John is gone, it’s just me. Can you open the door please?” Greg asked gently. “No. Go away Lestrade. I don’t need you here.” Sherlock said through the door. Greg, desperately tried the door handle to find it was locked. “Sherlock, I didn’t want to do this but you’re like a son to me and you need me, whether you want me here or not.” And with that being said, Greg took a key out of his wallet and unlocked Sherlock’s bedroom door. ‘Thank God I got this key made… and that Sherlock never found out.’

Greg walking into the room of the self-proclaimed sociopath and found said man curled up on his bed, with dried tear tracks on his face and red rimmed eyes. “Oh Sherlock.” Greg breathed out. “Get out.” Sherlock said, with dead eyes that were normally lit with excitement at the prospect of a puzzle to solve. “No.” Greg answered, deadpan. “I said, get out!” Sherlock yelled. “Keep screaming, I don’t care. I am not going to leave you.” Greg said calmly, undeterred by Sherlock’s rage.

Greg stood in the doorway, not moving, and simply looked at Sherlock, waiting for a sign to walk to the man that lay broken on the bed. “Greg, I,” Sherlock stopped, “I wasn’t fast enough. I wasn’t smart enough. I wasn’t enough.” Sherlock broke. With those three sentences Greg Lestrade swiftly walked to the bed, took the consulting detective in his arms and got in the bed. “Sherlock, oh Sherlock, it wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t stop her from talking, she made that choice, you told her to stop. Sherlock, you can’t put that on yourself.” Greg said, hoping beyond belief that his words were getting into his pseudo-son’s thick skull. “And all of those other people Greg? What about them? They had nothing to do with it, even the old lady. It could have been Mrs. Hudson Greg, it could have easily been Mrs. Hudson. This monster, Moriarty, was doing this for me, doing this to me. He was challenging me. If I wasn’t here none of this would have happened. This is my fault Greg.” Sherlock said, his eyes watering. “Sherlock, you’re right none of them deserved that. But son, it wasn’t your fault either. It was this monster’s fault. And we will catch Moriarty, I promise you, we will catch him.” Greg said, unsure how to comfort the consulting detective.

After a pause Sherlock turned his gaze to Greg, tears slowly dripping from his eyes. “It hurts Greg.” And with those three words Sherlock began to sob. “Come here son, cry it out. There you go.” Greg said, holding the man close to him and running a hand through the curly hair. Greg held Sherlock until he cried himself to sleep, and kept holding him until John got back.

“Greg? You okay? Is Sherlock okay?” John asked when he got to Sherlock’s door. “He’s not okay, but he will be. I swear it. Can you make the soup, and let me know when it’s done so I can wake him up please?” Greg asked, still carding a hand through unruly curls. “Yeah. Of course, Greg. Call me if you need anything, yeah.” John said, walking towards the kitchen, closing the door behind him.

“Sherlock? Wake up son. I want to talk to you before you eat, and you will eat Sherlock. So help me.” Greg said to the now awake Sherlock. “What is it Lestrade?” Sherlock said, attempting to cover up his own sentiment. “Sherlock, don’t even try that with me, you and I both know it won’t work. Also, John doesn’t care, he wants to help you too. He cares about you Sherlock, so do I. Let us help you please. We don’t want to see you destroy yourself. Now, I want you to repeat after me. I, Sherlock Holmes, am in no way, shape, or form, responsible for the death of all those people. It was Moriarty’s fault and he will be caught and brought to justice. And if I begin to doubt this claim I will find Lestrade or John to knock some sense into my thick skull.” Greg finished. “Lestrade, I will not repeat that.” Sherlock said, still trying to hold onto his emotionless façade. “Sherlock. Repeat it. Now.” Greg said in his no nonsense voice. Sherlock sighed and repeated it, deflating and allowing more emotion to seep into the words as he went. By time he finished he was leaning his weight onto Lestrade, who gladly took it.

It was then that John walked in, ready to tell Lestrade to wake Sherlock up. “Sherlock? Oh, good you’re awake. Soup is simmering, if you want to clean up a bit. The stove is off and the soup is warm.” John said, ready to back out and leave the two alone. “John…” Sherlock called out to his flatmate, and rapidly becoming best mate. John turned around, who looked at the equally shocked Sherlock. “Yes Sherlock? What do you need from me mate?” John asked, walking closer to the bed. Sherlock looked down, pulling at the bed sheet. “Sherlock? What’s wrong?” John asked gently. Sherlock didn’t say anything but looked up at the army doctor and opened his arms, hoping that John would get the hint. Greg sat there, hoping that John would take the offer and prove to Sherlock that people are there for him. “Soup can wait a little longer yeah?” John said, taking his shoes off and getting into the bed on Sherlock’s other side, taking the tall frame into his arms. “I’m here Sherlock, and I won’t ever leave you, understand me, you mad genius. I’m always here.” John said to the shuddering man. Sherlock buried his head into John’s chest, softly crying, realizing that there are at least two people that want him there. John and Lestrade looked at each other over Sherlock’s head, vowing that nothing would ever happen to the precious man in-between them. 

The three men stayed like that all afternoon and eventually fell asleep like that. No one woke up to the sound of the door opening and Mrs. Hudson talking. “It’s been really quiet after John came back. I hope everything’s alright. Poor Sherlock, looked so upset, the poor dear. Wanted to make him a cuppa, but just this once mind, I’m not his housekeeper. He declined, the poor dear must be sick.” The landlady enthused. “Not to worry Madame, I shall check up of Sherlock, not to worry. Please, return downstairs and I’ll let you know how he is.” A man said. “Very well, take care of him. And let me know. Please stay for a cuppa afterwards, I get so lonely downstairs.” She said, as she walked out of the apartment. Not five minutes later, the man found himself downstairs drinking tea. “Mycroft, dear, that was quick is Sherlock alright? He is there isn’t he?” Mrs. Hudson asked the older Holmes. “He’s perfectly fine Mrs. Hudson. He’s going to be perfectly fine.” Mycroft Holmes answered, still seeing his little brother curled up, with a small smile on his face, protected by the two most important people in his life. “Oh good. Another cuppa dear?” Said the old lady. “No, that’s very kind Madame, but I must be off. I shall be back soon enough. Oh, and if you happen to go check on Sherlock, you might want to take a camera with you.” Mycroft said, hiding a smile and walking out the door, returning to his life as the British Government, knowing his brother was safe.

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so before anyone gets angry I realize Sherlock is very out of character, but this is the fic that my brain came up with because I love Sherlock and he is not heartless, no matter what Donovan and Anderson say.  
> Also, I tried to keep Greg and John as close to their characters as possible. Hope I succeeded.  
> Let me know what you guys think and if you want more Sherlock fics.
> 
> Prompt: “Get out.” “No.” “I said, get out!” “Keep screaming, I don’t care. I’m not gonna leave you.”


End file.
